Scarecrow In The Farmland
by Kukasabe Swift
Summary: Hatake Kakashi was a simple farmer's boy in the outskirts of Konoha. For him, the life of a shinobi was a fantasy. But when missing-nin claim his father's life and put his mother in danger, Kakashi is forced to make an oath—to protect everyone he loves by becoming the strongest person possible. Shinobi were the strongest people around. If he became one, he could protect. [semi-AU]
1. The Farmer's Son

_Hatake Kakashi was a simple farmer's boy in the outskirts of Konoha. For him, the life of a shinobi was a fantasy. But when missing-nin claim his father's life and put his mother in danger, Kakashi is forced to make an oath—to protect everyone he loves by becoming the strongest person possible. Shinobi were the strongest people around. If he became one, he could protect. [semi-AU]_

Yes, I know. I get a break from school and I'm posting this fic, which I may or may not update depending on how much everyone hates me. Gomen ne! I'm still waiting for that Writing Groove so I can write the next chapter of GW. I can write, sure, but it'll turn out sucky. Please forgive my impudence QAQ

As compensation, here's a story that's been plaguing me for a while. I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Image isn't mine. Naruto ain't mine. He's a good kid, but I wouldn't adopt him. *is shot*

* * *

**Scarecrow In The Farmland**  
_'... I would only be back for a second...'_

**.**

**.**

**.**

I plopped on the wild grass that grew in the paddock, hands behind head and one leg crossed over the other. I watched the clouds sailing in the sky, ignoring the grasshopper that slipped inside my boot. I tilted my head to look at the scarecrow behind me. It looked ugly and its sewn face didn't look like me at_ all, _but it gave me shade from the sun. I reached my hand to grab the book tucked into its overalls.

It was an encyclopedia of the world. I opened it up to a page I bookmarked, Yukigakure. The pictures showed me the snow-capped mountains and the shinobi that lived there. I took everything in with amazement—it was so _different_ compared to Konoha.

I'd like to visit Yukigakure one time.

As time passed by, I closed my eyes and fell asleep. I dreamed of the snow village and how cold it was, when suddenly a yell woke me up.

"Kakashi!"

I groaned. Groggily, I sat up and found my father a few yards away. My father, Hatake Sakumo, was at the wagon loading crates, and from the looks of it, he wanted me to help him.

"Kakashi!"

"I'm coming!" I yelled back, springing onto my feet. I would rather stay, but if my old man was loading crates then it meant he was going into the village. I didn't want to miss that opportunity, so I tucked my encyclopedia back into _Kakashi #2_ and ran under the blistering heat, distracting myself with Yukigakure's snowstorms.

By the time I got there, Father had two crates already loaded. "Took you long enough," he said, wiping the sweat off his forehead. "Here, help me lift the rest."

"Only if I get to go with you," I smirked.

Father gave a halfhearted laugh. "Sorry, but no. Stay and help your mother cook lunch. I hear we're having stew."

"But father, I didn't get to go last time!"

"You can help next time."

I scowled. I really wanted to go into the village. It'd been a long time since I left these plains and it was getting boring.

Hi no Kuni was home to Kohonagakure, a prospering village surrounded by forests and a large monumental mountain. You'd think we lived in the village, but actually we live in the outskirts of Konoha. The outskirts were vast plains inhabited by a few farmers, who made use of the land by growing crops and selling them to the village. It was a simple but rewarding life, and nobody knew that more than my father.

Once every fortnight, Father would visit the village and trade with store owners. I had gone with him enough times to know their demands. The butcher only wanted meat. The Silent Lady hated leeks but loved berries. Whenever Father set up a stall, I would always try to attract customers. There was one time where I sold two oranges by juggling them.

I liked helping out as much as I could. But now, lifting heavy crates wasn't something I wanted to do. If it would get me into the village, then I'd be glad to help.

"Father—"

"Don't make me repeat it," he warned. "You stay here."

My thoughts of carrying heavy crates vanished upon hearing those three words. I wasn't a tantrum thrower. Over the years, my parents taught me to bottle up my anger like a lantern did to a flame. Without a word, I turned away and walked to the house.

"Where are you going?" Father called out.

"To help with lunch," I answered stiffly. "I heard we're having stew."

I squashed the grasshopper in my boot.

**.**

**.**

**.**

If Father was the breadwinner of the family, then my mother, Hatake Karitoru, was the heart. She balanced my father's gruffness with her gentleness, his strength with her spirit, and his justice with her mercy. I loved both of my parents, but if I had to choose a favorite, I'd choose my mother.

Like Father said, she was making stew. A pot boiled on the stove top, the bubbling noise filling the kitchen. Carrots were being chopped. I flitted towards the pot before picking up one of the carrots.

"Mother, look out!" And then I imitated the flight of a kunai in slow motion, sound effects included. Mother was startled when the 'kunai' hit her arm. She dropped the knife and laughed before taking the carrot from me.

"Don't play with food," she said, placing the carrot back on the counter. She pinched my cheek, cooing, "Aren't you going to the village today?"

"Father said I had to help you."

"That seems unfair," she said, yet that didn't stop her from handing me a small knife. "Here, you can peel the potatoes."

I did as I was told. I dragged a stool over and propped myself atop it, so my torso was level with the counter. I hated how small I was—why couldn't I be taller like most nine-year old kids? I began peeling slowly, the potato's skin curling over the blade. Beside me, the sounds of blade hitting wood could be heard. _Peel peel peel_. _Chop chop chop_.

The kitchen used to be full of chatter. Now it was filled with unwanted silence.

I glanced at my mother. There were bags under her eyes. Her face was pale. Her black bangs, which used to sway like the wild grass in windy days, just drooped. Even her laughs were an octave lower.

This wasn't the first time I noticed these things. It seemed like Mother was tired everyday. I didn't know when it started—I'd only noticed last week—but for all I knew, it could've started weeks, even months ago. My mother was good at pretending. I wasn't even sure if Father knew.

"Mother," I started, but a warm sensation stopped me. I looked at my finger and saw blood trickle. I gasped. I had accidentally tried to peel the skin of my hand rather than the potato's.

"Kakashi!" Mother cried, and it didn't take long before she dragged me to the sink to wash the blood off. She grabbed a clean rag and deftly wrapped it around my hand, using it as a shabby tourniquet. I winced at the pain, but didn't make a noise. Instead I sat there feeling guilty for the crimson dots I spilled on that half-peeled potato.

"Kakashi," Mother said. "Kakashi, are you all right?" I faced her immediately.

"I'm fine," I insisted.

"What happened?" came Father's voice as he bolted inside. He didn't need an answer when he saw the tourniquet, and I saw something fierce glinting in his eyes. I was worried I'd get yelled at, even though I knew my father wasn't angry. Father could be scary at times, but only because he saw himself as a lion needing to protect his cub. _Needing to protect me_.

Mother sighed. "Kakashi just cut himself, but he'll need to go to the Noharas."

The Noharas. I had been there a lot, but not due to simple illnesses. I went there because I had a 'special' condition that required me to have checkups every month. My parents and Nohara-san had been extremely vague about it, and asking them was pointless after spending almost all my life doing so without even a solid answer.

"He'll have to go with you. A quick detour wouldn't hurt," continued Mother.

I widened my eyes as sparks of excitement ran throughout my body. It was such a subtle move! There was no way Father could deny that offer; he'd _have_ bring me along. I mouthed _thank you_ as Mother and I shared a secret wink.

"I don't see why not," Sakumo grunted, turning to me. "Since you'll be tagging along, I'll take you with me for work."

"Okay!"

"You promise you didn't cut your hand so this could happen?"

"I didn't!"

"All right. Just help me lift the rest of the crates, will you?"

I was confused. He knew I hurt my hand, didn't he? But suddenly, I felt guilty. I'd been used to Father's firm tone that I forgot that even he could crack jokes.

I laughed.

* * *

Nohara Iyasu was a renowned doctor who ran his own clinic in his family's household. My parents turned to him for help after finding that Konoha's hospital was too expensive. Nohara-san was a former medical-nin along with his wife, Nohara Kokoro, but unlike him, she didn't take up practice.

"So," Nohara-san began, rubbing something that stung on my wound, "you were peeling potatoes?"

"Yeah," I said, wincing at the salmon hue of my skin. The doctor nodded and didn't say another word. He used to ask me casual questions to pass the time, but over time he learned that I liked to keep to myself. I respected him for that. It certainly made things comfortable.

I distracted myself with the posters and equipment scattered in the room. Nothing stayed in the same position every time I visited. I briefly wondered where that autographed picture of Senju Tsunade went, when my eyes flitted onto the door. It was closed before, but now it was ajar. I could see brown eyes staring from behind.

They belonged to Nohara Rin.

I never actually met Rin. I'd only spot her a once or twice during my checkups, but only because she was peeking from behind the door. It was strange. The Hatakes were good friends of the Noharas yet their children weren't. A play-date had been in order, but Peeking Rin (as I had dubbed her) refused to introduce herself.

I chose to stare back. As Nohara-san bandaged my hand, I kept my eyes planted on the ones from behind the door. It was like a staring competition, only there was no competition to begin with. Neither of us blinked, too lost in each others' gazes. Those brown eyes reminded me of squirrel's—curious, yet afraid to confront.

And then suddenly the eye contact broke when Nohara-san blocked the door. It broke me from my trance like a snap of one's fingers.

"All done," the doctor said, smiling. "Be careful next time, Kakashi. I'm already running out of gauze!"

I nodded, hopping off the clinic bed. "I will," I grinned. I then remembered Peeking Rin, so I looked at the door only to find no trace of those brown eyes.

"Are you looking for Rin?" Nohara-san asked.

I flushed, embarrassed that I had been caught. "She watches me every time I come here."

"Rin wants to be your friend, but she's too shy for her own good."

"I don't bite."

He laughed. "I'll tell her that."

He led me out of the door and into the living room where Father was waiting. His eyes lit up upon seeing me. "How is it?" he asked.

I clenched and unclenched my hand, feeling the cottony gauze. "A bit tight, but it's okay."

"That's to prevent any more bleeding," Nohara-san said. "I strongly advise that Kakashi doesn't use his left hand until the wound heals. If it does bleed again, come to me immediately."

"Of course," Father nodded.

As Father and I headed outside the clinic, I looked back over my shoulder. I always did this, and Nohara Rin would always stare back.

* * *

The old lady took the punnets of assorted berries with an appreciative nod, before handing Father a wooden box. From behind him, I watched as he opened it and saw a knife delicately strapped inside. I noted the intricate swirls on the handle. Every fortnight, the Silent Lady would trade us cutlery or silverware, the kind with a story behind them. I wondered if a chef had used the knife sometime in the Edo Period.

Father thanked her, tucking the knife case carefully into a bag. The Silent Lady nodded before disappearing behind the door. Her lack of speech had scared me when I first met her. I thought she was a ghost! Nowadays, I could translate her actions for words.

Father couldn't help but smile as we headed back to the wagon. "Your mother will be glad to have a fine knife."

I agreed—Mother was a fan of the Silent Lady's items. "It looks strange though," I added. "The blade is black, not silver like the normal knives we've got."

"That one's special," Father said as we mounted the wagon, before he tugged the reins. The horses trotted away, leading us to the marketplace. As always, it was busy there. There were people spruiking and negotiating and jostling around one another that it made me glad I was on a wagon. It was like being on a boat in an overpopulated lake of fish!

"Looks like we're selling on the wagon again," Father airily said, and I thought that was a given. We _always_ sold on the wagon ever since the marketplace became overcrowded.

The horses led us towards an empty space—a blessing, if we ever saw one—and we settled the wagon comfortably to its side. Father disembarked the wagon and tended to the horses, feeding the pair of them a carrot. "Kakashi," he said, voice raised to drown out other noises, but Father didn't need to say anymore because I was already prying the lids off the crates.

"I know," was my reply. After removing the lid from a crate full of apples, I made sure that everything was secure. There were a lot of robbers in the dingy places of Konoha, including this marketplace. Afterwards, I hung a wooden sign from the wagon's side. I made a mental note to repaint the faded ryo prices before they washed away.

Father was spruiking. His deep voice rang in the air, yet it was like a bell amidst drums. I comfortably sat back in the wagon and kept watch. But really, I was staring into the distance. I could see the Sandaime's carved face on the Hokage Rock, and for a moment, I wondered what it would be like to be a ninja.

Perhaps I was strong enough since I was a farmer's son, but I didn't have the appropriate reserves of chakra ninja needed. I had heard that Father would've made a great ninja had he not chosen the paddock over the battlefield. He was a farmer, so I was a farmer's son. What would being a ninja's son be like?

When I was young, I imagined adventures in between forests and other vast lands, like seas or snow or sand. I had never stepped outside Konoha's borders. The only adventure I was ever allowed was freedom on the plains. Seas and snow and sand only existed in the encyclopedia I owned, and sometimes, I would visit them in my dreams. If I became a ninja, would I be able to visit them for real?

A lot of kids at my school want to become shinobi, yet they would always end up failing. It was simple, really. Civilian kids weren't meant to fight in wars or kill missing-nin. If civilian kids struggled, then how could a farmer's son fare any better?

For me, the life of a shinobi was a fantasy. I was better off in the paddocks like my father, doing what my ancestors did before me.

There was a blur of red. I blinked, snapping out of my reverie, and realized that an apple was gone.

Someone had stolen it!

I frantically looked around me. Faraway, I saw a cloaked figure disappear into an alley. That had to be the robber!

Should I go after him? It was only one apple; we had plenty left. But then I thought of how precious that apple was, how Father worked hard to nurture the orchard to make sure we had the ripest fruit. Now he would never get any gratitude for that apple.

Glancing at Father, I crawled to the back of the wagon and hopped onto the ground. I would only be back for a second. With that in mind, I ran after the thief.

It was hard maneuvering through the crowd, but once I reached the alley, I went into full sprint. Soon, the chatter of the marketplace died away as I ran deeper and deeper into the alleyway. I came before two junctions, the robber nowhere in sight. I scowled. Neither option seemed inviting, and for a moment I thought of going back to the wagon, when I heard the distinct sound of _crunch_ from the right.

They must be there!

I swerved to the right junction in an instant. Darkness waited for me, but I kept running until I saw a figure slouched to the wall. Quickly, I hid behind a dustbin and tried hard to ignore the awful stench around it. I peered at the thief—he was a man, I noted—and watched as his jaw clamped onto the apple with a juicy crunch.

I grimaced. It was too late. I couldn't get that apple back. No, even if I had the chance, I don't think I would've succeeded. And this was a thief I had pursued—someone who was probably armed, someone who could _kill_. Still, I felt some pity for the thief. Even poverty existed in a great village such as Konoha. My family and I were lucky to have food at our doorstep.

Father must be worried now—I'd no doubt get yelled at later. Sighing, I slowly crawled away from the dustbin when a yelp caught my attention.

I glanced back.

Two men in ninja attire, one pinning the thief to the wall, the other standing by, froze me to the spot. The former had a kunai (a real kunai!) angled towards the thief's throat. I panicked and thought of making a run for it, but upon closer look, I noticed that the ninjas had headbands with an unfamiliar symbol on it; a music note. That meant that they were _foreign shinobi_.

Running away from two trained killers meant the possibility of_ death_.

Slowly, I crawled back to the dustbin and calmed myself down. I had plenty of practice when I had to hold in my temper, but this time it was _fear_ I was suppressing. I crouched down, ready to run if needed, and I almost did when a voice echoed.

"Where is he?"

I felt curious all of a sudden. Bravely, I peered from behind the bin and watched the three men. It's funny—I was worried that the thief would be dangerous. But there he was, trembling as the ninja glared at him. At the moment, I _really_ pitied the man.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" the robber exclaimed.

The other ninja bent down to pick up the half-bitten apple that had rolled onto the floor, probably after being dropped by the thief. "I think you know," he spat. "You stole this apple from his wagon. We saw you running away. Now tell us, where is he?"

"Isn't he still at the wagon?!"

No. My heart pounded like a million beating drums. They weren't talking about Father, were they?

_Th-thump._ _Th-thump._ _Th-thump._

"When we checked it, he was gone."

Father must've gone looking for me.

_Th-thump. _Th-thump. __Th-thump.__

"I don't know where he went! I just stole an apple and never looked back!" The thief yelped when the kunai pressed harder to his throat, and he automatically continued, "I can tell you his name! Just let me go, please!"

"We already know his name," snarled the ninja pinning him down. "It's Hatake Kakashi."

_Hatake Kakashi._

They wanted me.

_Th-thump, th-thump, th-thump._

"If you don't know where he is, what use are you to us?"

"Wait—!"

The sound of blade drawing blood filled the air.

_Th-thumpth-thumpth-thumpth-thump._

They killed him.

"I sense a chakra signature... it's faint, but it's there."

I wanted to get out of here.

_Running away from two trained killers meant the possibility of _death_._

My chest felt heavy. It felt like lava was flooding me from the inside, waiting to flow out of me. I felt sickeningly _hot_. I tried standing up. My vision blurred, and when I closed my eyes, I saw stars. I fell down to my knees. I heard shouts. Then I felt something tug on my arms, pulling me up, and I thought it was Father helping me up to my feet—he had _found_ me, I thought, he had _found_ me—but I met the grinning faces of the foreign shinobi instead.

What did they want with me?

"Shit!"

I succumbed to the darkness.

_Th-thump._


	2. The Last Farewell

Yeah, I'm back.

Not permanently. But I'll keep working on my fics, because that's better than completely abandoning them. I do want to apologize for my _lo—ong_ hiatus (or hibernation), but hey, it happens. All the more reason to marvel at the authors who do update regularly :D

Hopefully I'll be posting more stuff in the coming days, I just need to read them as a whole, see if they fit. Editing will come later. Like I say, the plot can temporarily compensate for the prose (because manuals are grammatically correct, but are boring ;3).

Despite that, I dedicate this chapter to E3-FantasyandReality and Twisted Sarcastic Play for being great PM buddies, especially E3 (sorry for not replying!), Boredom-Take Over for the faithful support (sorry for not updating as quickly as I promised!) and Idle Inkling, who stoked the fire in my writing groove. And of course, all my readers. You guys /tears up ;u;

As always,

Naruto ain't mine :3

* * *

**Scarecrow In The Farmland**  
_'... that's what he would want...'_

**.**

**.**

**.**

I felt dead.

I wasn't dead, though. I could hear myself breathing. I could hear this distant ringing noise in my ears. I could hear voices. When I opened my eyes, I saw a blurry Nohara-san.

"Kakashi?"

I couldn't speak. I grunted and lifted myself up, only to fall back to the bed with my body aching like crazy. Nohara-san ushered me to relax.

It took me a while to realize that I was in the clinic. How I got here was a mystery. I groaned, brushing a hand over my throbbing headache. Father must've brought me here. No one else could have. Briefly, I felt a sense of deja vu. Something like this happened a year ago—I let my temper loose on a bully from my school, and somehow I ended up fainting.

His name was Uchiha Obito. He wasn't like the other bullies. Whenever someone provoked him or made a dumb mistake in front of him, he would embarrass them in front of the other kids by hurting them using some ninja move. I would always avoid him, but one day my friend said that he would become Hokage when Obito suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

_"What a silly dream. There's no way you'd ever achieve that. The Hokage is the most powerful shinobi in Konoha. How can a civilian like you become the Hokage when you won't even become a ninja?"_

That was the first time I got angry in a long time. It wasn't just what he said, but _how_ he'd said it. I talked back, and it earned me a shove. I fought back, but Obito wasn't from a clan for nothing. I'm pretty sure I landed a punch on him before I blacked out.

I woke up at the clinic afterwards with both my parents worried sick. They never told me why.

What was that again? Nohara-san was saying something. Wait, outside?

As if he understood me, Nohara-san gently smiled. "Your father is waiting outside, Kakashi. Don't worry, you aren't badly hurt."

"What happened to me?"

"Well, what do you remember?"

I tried to think of the moments before I fell unconscious, but my mind wasn't up for it. I shook my head. "Can't remember right now."

The doctor patted me on the head. "It's fine."

I weakly nodded. Instinctively, I peered from the covers and checked the door. No brown eyes.

"Do you want to see your father?"

Nohara-san's question remained unanswered until I got over the fact that Peeking Rin didn't attend to one of our rituals. Not that she had to. I blinked at him, pretending that I was tired to explain my delayed response. "Yes please."

Nohara-san nodded. "I have to warn you, though. Your father isn't in good shape right now."

He isn't? I tilted my head in confusion, but he didn't elaborate. Nohara-san disappeared behind the door.

With nothing to do, I tried to remember what happened. Images of an alley and two men came to mind, but I couldn't pinpoint just who the latter were. I remember falling. I remember shouting. I groaned from straining my mind too much, but I forced myself to _think_. And then an single image came to mind. It was the image of two evil grins.

I gasped. _Of course_. The two shinobi! I remembered everything—from the thief with the apple to his death—and instantly, the questions began pouring in. What happened to them? What did they do to me? Nohara-san said I wasn't badly hurt. Does that mean I was saved? But by who?

One word echoed in my mind.

_"Shit!"_

Father.

The same man was standing at the door. When I looked at him, I stiffened. My hand wound was _nothing_ compared to his ones. He was covered in bandages, some of which were crimson. His silver hair was flecked with blood, and parts of his face were bruised purple. _He looked defeated_. But I knew he wasn't, because when he walked towards me, I could see the relieved glint in his eyes.

"Father," I said, ignoring the pathetic tone of my voice. He shushed me as he stood beside the bed, but I ignored him. "You—"

"It's fine," he assured. "I'm okay. How about you? Are you feeling any better?"

_I should be asking you that._ "Yeah," I said shortly, even though I wasn't.

"Good." He planted a kiss on my forehead, and that just_ broke me_. Seeing him just made everything worse. It felt like guilt punched me in the face. If he hadn't saved me from those shinobi, I would've been dead.

So I said, "Thank you."

Father was surprised, but I didn't know if it was because I thanked him or because I was getting teary-eyed (which was also pathetic of me, but I didn't care). And he said, "You're welcome."

It was these moments which I cherished, the moments where my father would show his gentle side. The tough life of a farmer hardened him up, so it was rare for him to be sincere. I smiled, wiping away my tears with the blanket. "How did you find me?"

"Wasn't easy," he said. "When I didn't find you at the wagon, I panicked." I shot him an apologetic look, but he only shrugged. "I figured you had a reason for deserting me."

He then told me how a customer pointed out the direction which I ran. Father came into the alley I'd went into and ended up at the two junctions. He was about to take the left one when he heard a commotion from the right.

"I heard shouting from around the corner. At first, I thought it was just a fight—I was about to walk away, since I didn't want to be involved in somebody else's business. That was until I heard your name."

"What did you do?"

"I listened, of course. I came upon the corner, just out of sight. I took a quick peek and I saw you hiding from them. I panicked, especially when they found you."

"And then what did you do?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

Father smirked. "I kicked their asses and drove them away."

I chuckled. "I bet you were proud of yourself."

"Not at the time. I was busy worrying about you."

I was glad. Glad that he came for me. Glad that I was still alive. But then I thought of the two foreign shinobi. They were still out there. They intruded Konoha. Did the Hokage need to know? Would he care if two enemy-nin came into the village just for a farmer's son? But why? Why did they want me?

Now that I thought about it, the smile on Father's face was slightly forced. Was he thinking the same thing I was?

"Come on, Kakashi. Your mother is waiting for us, along with a pot of stew."

I couldn't ask him, not without spoiling his good mood. I nodded with a forced smile of my own.

**.**

**.**

**.**

The horses clipped-clopped on the musty ground as we left Konoha's gates. The sun shone down upon us as we rode back home, and I recalled the days where Father and I would till the ground and harvest the crops under that giant ball of heat. Our hair would be matted and slick with sweat, though it did give them this glow, like real silver.

I sat beside Father on the wagon. We sat in comfortable silence, the both of us just taking in the scenery. Although, it got boring since the scenery was just grass and trees. I spoke up.

"Father?"

"Yes?"

I glanced to the crate of vegetables, remembering my carrot-kunai. "Why didn't you become a ninja?"

He raised a brow. For a moment, it seemed like he was going to change the topic, but I guess he realized that I wasn't going to back down. With a sigh, he replied, "I suppose I haven't told you, huh. But to be honest, you were the reason why I didn't become a ninja, Kakashi."

I licked my lips, which had gone dry. "What do you mean?"

"When I was eight, my parents told me that I was going to be a shinobi for Konoha. I didn't mind. After all, I had the aptitude for it. It was strange since my mother and father weren't shinobi. Nevertheless, I learned what I had to learn so I could enroll into the Academy. I did, and I graduated. That happened to be the time where I met your mother."

"Did you two fall in love?"

Father chuckled. "Not at first. It took me a while, but fourteen years later, I was married to the most beautiful woman in the world." I laughed. "My parents were apprehensive at first—they wanted me to marry a clan's daughter, and your mother was from a civilian family—but they knew that my mind was made up. It was a small ceremony, but it was one of the best days of my life."

"And then I was born."

"And then you were born," he repeated.

"Was that a great day too?" From his words, it seemed like I was a burden. I fiddled with the hem of my shirt.

Father didn't reply straightaway. It seemed that he was done beating around the bush. The sounds of _clip clop clip clop_ could only be heard, until he turned away and sighed.

"You were sick."

I blinked. He continued.

"We didn't know what it was. It wasn't like the flu or food poisoning. Karitoru and I rushed you to Konoha's hospital, but we didn't have clearance since we weren't Konoha civilians. If it hadn't been for Iyasu, you would've..." He paused before saying one more sentence. "_It wasn't curable._"

His words shocked me. The questions started pouring in. "Is that why I have to go to him every month?"

Father nodded. "I'm sorry we didn't tell you. We... we didn't know how you would react."

The memory of the school bully flashed in my mind, and I shook my head. "I'm not the same kid I used to be."

"I know," was all Father said before we lapsed into silence once more. Of course, I just had to break it.

"Why do you think those shinobi wanted me?"

He tensed, but other than that, I received no reply. I didn't prod.

We arrived ten minutes later. The farm looked peaceful in the afternoon, and as we rode past the fields guarded by wooden fences, I caught sight of _Kakashi #2_.

When I looked closer, I saw a kunai firmly embedded into his head.

"Father."

I pointed to _Kakashi #2_ before he could say anything. And before I could panic, the wagon lurched forward as the horses broke into a gallop. Father was shaking the reins, shouting at them to go faster and faster, while I mourned for the scarecrow that was once my friend. Suddenly, I hoped that I didn't have to mourn for _her_.

We stopped just a few meters away from the house, probably so the shinobi didn't hear us coming. _If they were still inside_. Father wasted no time in hopping off. "Give me the bag," he ordered, and I did as he said. He pulled out the knife case and I blanched when he took the Silent Lady's knife in his hand. "Stay in the wagon."

"No!"

"Kakashi—"

"They nearly killed you!"

"I don't want that to happen to you," he countered. "Kakashi, _stay in the wagon_."

"No!" I cried. "It's my responsibility! They came looking for me; it's only right if I try to help! I didn't have to bring you or Mother into this—!"

Rough hands gripped my shoulders. Cold steel pressed against my cheek. I looked at Father's reflection on the blade and saw his pleading face. "Kakashi," he urged. "_Please._"

I pushed him away. "I'm not the same kid I used to be."

_I'm not the rage-filled child you had to care for back then._

As if hearing that unspoken sentence, Father let go of me. "Fine," he said, voice cracking. "But you stay behind me at _all times_. If you see you mother, you two will get out of there as soon as possible. Got it?"

"Got it."

We moved hastily towards the house. Father signaled me to take a spade from the shed as a weapon. When I went to pick it up, I couldn't help but notice that the shed was ransacked.

_Th-thump._

"_No_," I whispered, clutching my chest. "Not now."

I caught up with Father. We arrived at the front of the house, and Father peered through the window. "Clear," he said before slipping inside the open door. I followed suit. We advanced in a dimly lit corridor. The floorboards groaned under our feet. Dust swirled in the rays of sunlight which streamed from the windows in the rooms—when I peeked inside, I saw that drawers were pulled open and bedsheets were upturned.

"They'll be able to sense us," whispered Father, "so be prepared."

We tiptoed silently through the house. It was an unbearable feeling, to venture in your own home, something meant to be safe, and fear what was lurking inside. I looked at Father. His steps were quiet, his breathing was even and his whole demeanor was absolutely calm. Just like a real shinobi.

And then the tension in the air was sliced by a careening kunai.

I screamed.

The shinobi reached out to grab me.

"Kakashi!"

Father pushed him back to the wall. I stood there watching as he punched the man twice, no, three times, before he threw the shinobi to the ground. Then a kunai flew towards him, and I screamed.

"No!"

But to my relief, Father had deflected the kunai with the Silent Lady's knife. Yet something was different. The knife's blade wasn't black anymore. It was _glowing_. In fact, Father's hand was crackling silver. Like lightning.

"Run," he shouted to me, "run, Kakashi! Find your mother!"

"But—!"

The shinobi charged at him, and Father struggled to block the kunai attack. "Go!" he ordered.

I was torn. Torn between helping my father and looking for my mother. How was I supposed to decide? Then it hit me: Father was still alive. But Mother...

... I needed to make sure.

I scrambled away from the fight. During my escape, I passed the kitchen. Bits of stew sizzled on the floor. They must have found Mother there, before she ran away. But to where?

I went further into the corridor until I reached the very back of our house. There was a hatch that led to the wine cellar. I found it open, inviting me into the darkness inside. This must be where she hid! I immediately clambered down the slanting ladder and took a torch from a pile. I lit it up by stirring it in the hot embers beside the pile. Someone was here recently, and I thought of Mother.

When the flame appeared, I walked forwards, clutching the spade from the shed with a trembly grip. My other hand ached as I held the torch.

Tall shelves that towered above me like trees. Some of them were filled with rows and rows of wine; others were bare and accumulating dust. I shined the light towards them, and I found finger marks in the dust. Was it Mother? From the long marks, it seemed she'd been walking in the pitch dark.

I continued my search, step by step, breath by breath, blink by blink.

Then came a horrifying shriek.

A cry.

A roar.

I sank to my knees and covered my ears. Bottles were shattering. They only added to the agonizing roar, where every syllable was like a needle. Even when the noise finally died down, my ears still rang. I had a giant headache that made me keel over. Faintly, I could hear footsteps. "Mother?"

"Did you like the symphony?"

It was not her. Aargh! I should've known—there'd been two of them before.

I couldn't answer. He didn't wait for one. "I'm lucky that I'm not facing against the Black Fang. Instead I have the li'l pup. Don't worry, I won't kill you. Master needs you alive."

I quickly looked for my spade, but I must've have thrown it away in a frenzy. I then noticed the blood on the shinobi's hands. My heart stopped. "W-What did you do to her?" I asked.

He cocked his head with false innocence. "Your mother? It should be obvious, shouldn't it?

_Th-thump._

"I found her hiding under the bed, and I chased her 'round the house. She went inside the wine cellar. Bad move on her part.

_Th-thump. Th-thump. Th-thump._

"She tried to fight," the shinobi continued, strutting towards me. "But she was out with one hit! Pathetic. I expected more from the Black Fang's wife. I didn't expect a frail—

_Th-thump, th-thump, th-thump._

"—weak—

_Th-thumpth-thumpth-thump._

"—ugly piece of shi—"

**.**

**.**

_**.**_

_Can you hear me, pup?_

_Can you feel my rage?_

_Your rage is mine, and my rage is yours._

_You need to unleash it.  
_

_Will you let me help you?  
_

**.**

**.**

**.**

_It's time, pup._

_**Unleash your rage**—_

**.**

**.**

**.**

Instinctively, I slashed the shinobi's chest. Once. Twice. A dozen times. I slashed until the shinobi fell in a bloodied heap. _RAGE RAGE RAGE_ were my only thoughts, _KILL KILL KILL_ as my response.

I panted, staring at his body, before staring at my reflection on a bottle.

My fingers were replaced with long, black claws; my teeth with fangs; my eyes with bloodshot orbs. My body emanated black wisps of smoke that gave me the form of a shadowy wolf. When my fury faded away, the voice returned:

_Until next time, pup._

What?

The claws and the fangs and the smoke were gone. When I stared at the bottle again, I was myself again.

What just happened? I calmed myself. Think! I passed out. A voice told me to... unleash my rage? Then before I knew it, I—I killed the shinobi! Horrified, I backed away from the corpse until I bumped into a shelf.

I flinched when I stepped onto my spade. It's clang echoed like a bell toll.

There was a whimper. "Ka... kashi?"

I turned around, instantly recognizing that voice. She was kneeling and draped in a blanket, crouched at the corner of the cellar, her figure barely visible in the shadows. "Mother?" I squeaked. When I came closer, I gasped. "Mother!" I cried as I went to hug her. "I thought you were dead!"

Something was wrong. She coughed violently and held up a hand, as if to say that I should stay away from her. Worried, I brushed a hand to her forehead. She was burning up!

Suddenly, I realized that her droopiness from earlier was worse than I thought.

"Don't worry, we'll get out of here." I slung her arm around my shoulder and heaved her up. Mother nodded weakly and made an effort to walk. Then her eyes widened, and she pointed to something bright before us.

It was the burning corpse of the shinobi.

I was puzzled. Did he fall beside the torch? But that didn't make sense. Looking closer, I saw that a broken bottle was next to the corpse, wine spilled out.

_Oh, no_. "We need to go!" I said, helping Mother to hastily make our escape. I told her to climb up the ladder first with me encouraging from below. We made it outside just in time. As I shut the hatch, I glanced one more time at the inferno that swept across the cellar.

We staggered in the corridors. Mother coughed from all the smoke, and I was no exception, but it made me more determined to leave. But every step we took grew heavier and heavier. Before I knew it, Mother and I were on the floor. The air was cleaner, but our wounds...

_Th-thump._

"Kakashi?"

"Father!"

He bounded to us in no time, sporting a bloody lip and bruises. He held Mother with a firm but gentle grip, forcing her face to meet his. "Toru," he breathed. I watched as his face turned angry to sad before turning to me. "We're leaving," he said, "We're leaving, we're leaving, it's okay..."

Father heaved us up. He supported Mother while I stumbled ahead, ready to open the door that led outside, to escape from this nightmare—

White blinded me. I screamed as pain shot up my jaw, worser than the wound on my hand. With great effort, I rolled out of the bed of flames and felt tears slide down my cheeks. Vaguely, I could make out Father fighting something amidst the haze... something bright and crackling flying in the air... and an echo...

"Kakashi, get out of here! Get out!"

I found Mother unconscious and heaved her up, like Father did. She was like a rag doll. I forced my feet to take steps—one after the other—never looking back—always forwards—towards that scorching door—

Once we burst outside, we only had one second to relieve our lungs before the fire surged. "Mother, let's go!" I cried, leading her away from small fireballs spitting from what used to be our home.

I hurried her onto the wagon and was about to hop on when she spluttered; "Sakumo—?"

I gasped. I'd forgotten about him! But I couldn't go back, not when Mother was sick! "Father!" I yelled at the top of my lungs.

No answer.

"Father!"

Burning debris answered me, toppling over each other as the fire consumed all.

_Father..._

I wished my tears could extinguish the flames.

"Kakashi..." I turned back to Mother, whose worried eyes bore into mine, the eyes that flickered faintly of life.

Earlier, I was torn. Torn between helping my father and looking for my mother. Now it was the reverse. How was I supposed to decide?

Then I knew. I _had_ to get Mother to safety. I mean, that's what he would want... right?

Right?

* * *

Everything was gone.

Fire consumed all, rampaging our fields and turning everything red. Flames and smoke tails licked the sky. The air was thick with devastation. There was no home for us to go back to. In one day, our lives were turned upside down.

_"Why do you think those shinobi wanted me?"_

I didn't look back as we rode from our farm. The wheels rattled with the horses' gallops. All I saw in that moment of escape was red, as horrifying as the color of that apple, of that thief's blood.

_Kakashi #2_ was gone, too. Burning like that shinobi's corpse.

_"No!" I cried. "It's my responsibility! They came looking for me; it's only right if I try to help! I didn't have to bring you or Mother into this—!"_

I did look back one time, to check on Mother. She was hugging her knees and trying to stifle her coughs. Her face was paler than before. There was only one place I could take her. One that I could trust.

With a resolute heart, I led us towards the village.


	3. The Girl Called Rin

I fiddled with the bandages around my injured hand. They've bloodied up since the incident. I still press on them, just so the pain could distract me. Memories threatened another round of tears, something I couldn't allow myself right now. I needed to be strong.

I didn't cry when I turned up to the Noharas, begging for them to check Mother. I didn't cry when Nohara-san asked me what happened, and where Father was. I refused to answer with tears. Understandingly, Nohara-san led me into this room and left me here to wait while he and his wife tended to Mother.

The fire would've attracted attention by now—it wouldn't be long until an investigation went underway, and our names would suddenly become of interest. Unless Nohara-san reported me, but I doubted it. He'd want to ask me questions first.

I felt the skin around my mouth. It was slick with salve, meant to make the burn better. It didn't really help.

Nohara-san gave me new clothes. They're too big for me but they smelled nice. I tucked my head under the collar; it stuck to the salve but I didn't care.

Anything to hide my shame, my scar.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Scarecrow In The Farmland**  
_'... I was hurt every time I went here, and you never said anything...'_

**.**

**.**

**.**

Mother looked paler.

Her clothes were still the same, stinking of smoke and scorched round the edges. There was a thin scroll wrapped around her nose, glowing with green chakra. Nohara-san said it's to help clear her lungs of smoke. There's another on her forehead, for her fever. For the thing that was making her pale everyday.

Nohara-san said she'd live. That she'd be up in a few weeks—the burns would heal first, then the fever. Nohara-san said that he didn't know about Mother's fever because she didn't tell her. He asked, quietly, if Father knew. And I said I didn't know. I'd never know.

I remembered when Mother took me to school that time. It was sunny. People kept staring because I had silver hair. "Only old people have them," said a kid, who was of shinobi blood. Asuma, I think. But he wasn't as bad as the other kids, who always taunted us because we were from civilian families. There was one kid. I don't remember his name. But I remember wanting to do something bad to him, and they had to call Mother and tell her what happened.

Mother was mad at first. But she wasn't mad at me, she was mad at Father, and I couldn't hear what it was about because I was hiding in the paddock with _Kakashi #2_. I tried sleeping under the stars but the grass was itchy, and Father found me and carried me to my bed.

The day after, they told me I was going to see a doctor. They said that I had a serious condition and that they couldn't tell me. They said that his name was Nohara-san, and that we'd met before when I was a baby.

And even then I got worse. I threw tantrums all the time. They stopped once I knew how to control them, but they'd been my dark days, where Mother cried and Father stared endlessly at the window, like he was waiting for an escape.

I had put them through so much. And now?

They were dead to the world.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Something nice wafted into the gap under the door. I checked the clock. It was around dinnertime.

I left Mother's room and entered the corridor. They were narrow, which I didn't like, but they felt safe and stable now, and I could just reach both ends of the wall with the tips of my fingers and pretend I wasn't about to faint.

The smell led me to the Noharas' kitchen. Nohara-san's wife was frying something in a pan, and Rin was beside her ready with two or three spice grinders.

And Rin didn't need a stool or a peeler because whatever was in the pan didn't need potatoes, which meant no accidents and no going to Konoha and leaving her mother alone. But she already lived in Konoha, in a clinic no less, so maybe she was allowed to make mistakes.

"Kakashi?" Kokoro-san looked surprised, with the way she held her spatula like a weapon.

I said nothing.

"Do you want to cook with us? You can help Rin with the spices."

I shook my head. And ran away. Past Mother's room and mine and into one where it felt the safest.

I closed the closet door and cried.

And I wiped the tears with my sleeves until they were soaked. Then lifted my knees and buried my head into my arms. Letting the salve stick everywhere.

I replayed everything in my head. From the cart to the missing-nin to the fire.

They wanted me. What for? What did I do to make them come after me?

Questions swirled in my head, neverending, never stopping, flowing out in tears.

_What do I do to get Father back?_

The door opened, but not completely. I looked up and saw brown eyes.

Defiant, I stared back. But they never ran away. Instead, the door opened further and Rin appeared. She pushed a basket of medicine bottles away and sat next to me.

Then she said, "Are you okay?"

"No," I said.

"That's okay."

"Why are you talking to me?" I asked, after nobody said anything for a while. "You've never talked to me before."

"You're hurt. Mom says you're supposed to help people who're hurt."

"I was hurt every time I went here, and you never said anything."

"Because Dad was there. He's not here now." She paused. "Karitoru-san will be okay."

"And my father?" I hissed. "He won't be okay. He'll never come back and even _see_ if Mother will be okay. You get that?"

_Because he's dead. Because he's—_

"He's not dead," said Rin. "I mean, he might not be."

I blinked. "What?"

"They'll investigate your house. Uchiha Police, I mean. If they don't find Sakumo-san's body then he might've gotten away alive."

She's...

She's right. Father could have escaped out the window. He was strong, he could've done it... He could be hurt, but alive. Probably limping to Konoha. The guards would see him, send out medics, hopefully Nohara-san, and bring him here...

But if he wasn't...

"Rin," I said, in a quiet but determined voice, "do you think they'll let me go to my house today?"

"I don't know. You can ask Dad when he's back."

"Where did he go?"

"Probably with the Uchihas to help with the investigation. He left when they knocked on the door."

"I need to go back. To check." I eased myself out of the closet and faced Rin. "Is the wagon still outside?"

"You can't go by yourself," she said.

"I need to know," I said.

"You're not thinking straight. You're bottling up your feelings and it's not good. You need to talk to me, Kakashi. Kun. Kakashi-kun."

"Is the wagon outside?"

"Kakashi—"

"Is it outside, Rin?"

"I'm trying to help you!" she shouted, leveling my gaze. "You can't go out there! It's dark! Dangerous!"

At that point I listened. I'd pushed Rin into desperate anger and it didn't suit her.

She took a deep breath, her bangs swaying from her face. "They're looking for you," she whispered. "I heard the Uchiha. Missing-nin are after you."

"But they died in the fire," I said.

"There are others. Prowling in the fields, trying to sneak into Konoha. They haven't caught them yet." Rin glanced around. "They put seals around our house. They won't work if you leave."

Seals... I'd felt safe in these corridors earlier. Was that why? But I thought civilian kids didn't sense chakra, to some extent. Was I really that distraught?

Looking back, Rin was right. I wasn't thinking straight. I wanted someone to explain how they were dead. Why I made them that way.

"Are you okay?"

Rin drew soothing circles on my back. And I tell her, "No."

She said, "That's okay."

We stayed like that for a while. Soon the questions drifted from my mind. I was left with an emptiness, but the sort when someone's finished a tantrum and have no idea what to do next.

Then Kokoro-san called us for dinner.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Rin took me to her room after we ate. It was the first time I'd been there. She was a bit shy showing me around. She had a futon and a shelf full of medical books, and a desk with papers and pencils. There were drawings of plants and their healing properties, posters of the human anatomy and the chakra points.

"Want to be a doctor?" I asked.

Rin scratched her head. "Sort of. I mean, I could. It's the safe option."

"What do you mean?"

"I... I want to be a medi-nin."

I was surprised. "Medi-nin? You want to be a ninja?"

"Sort of! I'm not that strong. I want to be one that heals, that's all. I can't fight, I don't have the chakra capacity."

She went to the bookshelf and took a ball. It was wooden and had markings all over. "What's that?"

"It's called an Easter Egg. Mom bought it for me." Rin offered it to me. "Here, you try. You put your fingers in the dents and you feed them your chakra. The only way it'll open is if each dent gets an equal amount of chakra, so you have to really concentrate."

I took the Easter Egg and held it by the dents. "Now what?"

"Make your chakra flow into your fingers. It helps if you imagine it happening."

I closed my eyes and thought of streams in my body, water flowing over to my fingers. Nothing happened. I felt like I was trying to crack a stone open.

"Holding it tightly won't help; it isn't about strength," Rin said. "Just imagine, Kakashi. What do you think your chakra is?"

"Water."

"Okay. Now imagine it's like molten lead. It's heavy and hard to control. Now make it flow into your fingers. Not too fast, but not too slow. It's like—like when you spill something and the spill grows bigger and bigger."

I thought of lead, of lava. What I imagined lava to be, from what I'd read in my encyclopedia. The one I lost at the fire. Then I thought of other liquids—the wine and—the missing-nin's blood pooling out, growing bigger and bigger—

"Kakashi!"

I opened my eyes and found light.

It was dark and crackly like thunder, a sickening violet that was awfully similar. It was coming from the markings in the Easter Egg. I dropped it, shocked, and it broke open the moment it hit the floor.

I stared at my hands and kept picturing them with the same light. Where have I seen that light? I shuddered. Rin spoke from beside me.

"Kakashi... look."

I looked. On the floor lay the Easter Egg unraveled, torn apart at the markings like a doily. In the middle rested something shaped like a teardrop that I've never seen before. Apparently Rin has, because she leapt at it like a cat. "What is it?" I asked.

'It's a conch shell,' she said, picking it up with a smile. "It's these weird things made out of calcium that wash up on shore. One of Dad's clients gives us these every appointment, and I've been collecting them since. Look!" Rin pulled a box from under her desk. "I have lots of types. I've never gotten one this big, though."

"That's..." I started, but shook my head. "Rin, that light. That... that wasn't my chakra, was it?"

Rin's smile vanished, replaced by a blank look. "I don't know. I mean, chakra can be visible, but only if you release a lot of it."

"But I couldn't have done that. I'm not a ninja."

"Maybe one of your ancestors was a ninja."

I thought about it. "My father told me he had the skills to be one."

Rin shrugged. "Then he must've passed those skills to you when you were born, and that's why he couldn't become a ninja anymore."

"That doesn't make any sense," I argued. "You can't lose chakra."

"Maybe it isn't chakra. Maybe it's a dojutsu like the Sharingan."

"You can't lose that either."

"You can, it's in the history books. Uchiha used to gouge each other's eyes out to become more powerful. Plus, non-Uchihas can have a Sharingan if they get one transplanted."

I cringed at Rin's blunt explanation. "Even so, there's no way the Uchiha would just give my father a Sharingan. What's the point?"

"That's true," Rin said, staring absentmindedly in her box of shells, before looking at me with curious eyes. "Hey, Kakashi-kun. Have you heard of jinchūrikis before?" I shook my head. "Do you remember the Sage of Six Paths?" I nodded. "Well, it's to do with him and the Ten Tails.

"After its defeat the Sage sealed it inside him, making him the first ever jinchūriki. Before he died, he split its chakra into the nine tailed beasts. It wasn't long before Hidden Villages began making jinchūrikis of their own; I read about a boy named Gaara who had one sealed in him before he was born.

"Maybe that's what happened to you. Maybe your dad could become a ninja because he was a jinchūriki. But when you were born, they sealed the beast in you."

"That's..." I started, but shook my head. "Rin, that can't be. Why my father? Why not someone from a clan?"

"How do you know your father wasn't in a clan?" she challenged.

"His parents weren't shinobi. And before you ask, my mother's civilian. I'm telling you Rin, there's no way."

Rin stood up so suddenly that I did a double-take. She crossed her arms and scowled — actually _scowled_ — at me. "You've been going to my dad ever since you were a kid. You beat up Uchiha Obito with your _bare fists_. You cracked open the Easter Egg, which is hard, even for shinobi kids." Then Rin looked away. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "You... have missing-nin after you."

She's...

She's right. It wasn't even about the jinchūriki thing. Jinchūriki or not, I was the reason everything went to shit.

I must've said that out loud because Rin flicked my forehead. I looked up to brown eyes. "You're not," she said, sitting me on her futon. It was soft. Warm.

Nobody said anything for a while, until;

"Are you okay?"

I said, "I think so." Our conversation still echoed in my mind, trying to fit itself in the mess.

And all Rin said was, "Cool."


End file.
